


It Had to be Crowley

by occasionalgnome



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: 6000 Years of Pining, First Kiss, Fluff, Love Confessions, M/M, Other, just absolute fluff, they're so dumb
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-04
Updated: 2019-07-04
Packaged: 2020-06-09 14:28:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 884
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19477804
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/occasionalgnome/pseuds/occasionalgnome
Summary: Crowley finally gets fed up with all the waiting - but he's not great at talking about... Feelings.





	It Had to be Crowley

Of course, it had to be Crowley to make the first move.

It certainly couldn’t be Aziraphale. He had spent too many years pining for the demon, thinking it entirely unrequited. No, that wasn’t quite right; he was _sure_ it was unrequited. (Incorrectly, of course.)

Which is why it took Aziraphale completely by surprise when one day Crowley finally confessed his feelings.

The day started out much like any other. Aziraphale woke up, made himself some tea, and sat down with a book. Soon enough, he spotted Crowley out the window to the shop, which was common enough. But that was where the commonness ended.

Crowley wasn’t himself. Not to say he was possessing the body of another person – which was, of course, quite possible. No, he was simply acting _queerly._ He was pacing back and forth on the sidewalk, up to the door and away again, over and over and over, with a noticeably sporadic gait (which is saying something, considering the way he normally walks). He also seemed to be mumbling to himself. And growling.

Aziraphale, more than a tad bit concerned, stood on the other side of the window. The next time Crowley turned for the door, he spotted the angel, and froze.

“Crowley, Dear? Everything alright?” The worry in his voice was evident.

Crowley simply blew out a puff of air in response and threw open the front door, finally coming to rest in front of Aziraphale, who spotted something clutched in his hands.

“Oh, are those for me?”

Crowley looked down at the crumpled bouquet of roses in his hand (they hadn’t survived his nerves very well). “Um. Yes, I suppose. Yeah.” He held them up.

Aziraphale’s face lit up as he reached to take them, but-

“No, wait, that’s dumb. That’s stupid, isn’t it?” And Crowley threw the roses right over his shoulder. “Listen, Angel.” He folded his hands and rested his chin on them, adamantly refusing to meet Aziraphale’s eyes.

 _Why?_ Why _did it have to be_ him _to make the first move?_

“… Yes? Crowley, what’s wrong? Frankly, you’re scaring me a little.”

 _Oh,_ he’s _scared, is he?_

“Angel,” Crowley started again. And then stopped. And then started again. “Angel, listen.”

“Yes, you’ve said that. I promise, you have my attention. Are you feeling quite alright?”

“ _Listen, Angel._ We’ve been doing this for a long time, haven’t we?”

“Doing… what, exactly?”

“ _This._ ” He gestured frantically between the two of them, frustrated that Aziraphale didn’t already know what he was trying to say (as if that were at all possible with the way he was carrying on).

“I… my _dear_ boy, what _are_ you talking about?” Aziraphale’s confusion was clearly genuine, which only frustrated Crowley all the more.

“ _This!_ This _thing_ we do and then pretend doesn’t exist. It’s been going on for _far_ too long, and let me tell you, I’m just- I’m sick of it! That’s what I am. _Just sick of it._ ” Crowley was aware that he sounded like he was scolding Aziraphale more than anything else, but really he couldn’t help it.

“Alright… ?”

“I mean, you _know,_ don’t you? So why do I have to be the one to say it?”

“Are you… angry with me?”

“Do I _sound_ angry?”

“Well, yes, but then you do most of the time, I suppose.”

“Hell, maybe I am! I don’t know! You know I’m not good at this. This is _your_ area. Do you just like to watch me struggle? Is that it?”

“Crowley, please, _what-_ ”

“ _Love, Angel!_ You _know_ I’m in love with you. You can sense these things, can’t you? You’ve known for _six thousand years._ So why do I have to be the one to make the first move?”

Aziraphale was stunned. Entirely silent, entirely motionless, and entirely dumbfounded.

Unlike angels, demons couldn’t sense love. Crowley had no idea how Aziraphale felt about him. Instead, he had to do it the old fashioned way: give his entire self and hope that it was enough. “Or… do you not feel the same way?”

The hurt in Crowley’s voice startled Aziraphale back to life. “Oh! Oh, of _course_ I do. I… I’ve loved you for so long, my dear.” He stepped forward and put one hand on the demon’s face, the other grasping his arm. “Look at me.”

Finally, Crowley raised his eyes to meet Aziraphale’s. And the love he saw there, saw plainly for the first time without doubt or fear clouding the way, made six thousand years of waiting seem like nothing at all.

“I had _no idea_ you felt this way about me. I hoped, of course. But I couldn’t sense it. So I always assumed… well, the opposite.”

Crowley could only think of one way to prove just how wrong the angel was. So he kissed him.

When the two parted, they stayed standing there, eyes closed and foreheads touching, for a long time. Neither wanted to move, so neither did.

And what neither of them knew was that there was a very good reason Aziraphale couldn’t sense Crowley’s love for him. It was the very same, very good reason why Anathema Device couldn’t sense Adam Young’s aura. The same reason why someone standing in New York couldn’t see all of America.

So of course, it always had to be Crowley.


End file.
